31 Days
by 01200120
Summary: Written for the August 31days challenge on livejournal. 31 takes on Conan, Ai, and ConanAi.
1. Staunch the Flow

Written for the 31days challenge on livejournal. Will be about Conan, Ai, or Conan/Ai.

**Staunch the Flow**  
August 1: Be indomitable, o my heart

Word Count: 193

Ai is so hard to read, so hard to touch. She is wounded, but Conan does not know where, cannot know where unless she tells him--which she won't--because she is not bleeding blood but fear and guilt which she drinks back in, poisoning herself.

Conan thinks he can taste it sometimes, when he's exploring her mouth with his tongue. It tastes like bitter defeat, the belief that this is all a fragile dream that will pop at any moment.

Conan hates how his words can't reach her, how she doesn't believe him even as he slides a hand through her hair and tilts her head just so. He would stop (because this can't be healthy), except that he knows she loves him as well and needs the contact, the reassurance.

What Ai really needs, though, is forgiveness, which is something only she can give herself but won't.

It's frustrating, and Conan sometimes wants to shout at her (sometimes /does/ shout at her), but he never pulls away. He will hold her close until she can stand on her own, and then he will hold her close simply because he loves her.


	2. Gray

**Gray**  
August 2: A school of morality

Word Count: 208

Conan wakes, gasping for breath, still seeing the barrel of the gun pointing at him, still feeling the weight of a similar gun in his hand. The question always echoes in his mind: kill or be killed. But despite the nightmares that plague him, he knows that Ai gets even less respite.

Because she is the one who took the gun from his frozen hand and made the hard choice in his place.

Shinichi Kudo is a detective. He is famous for enforcing the laws, bringing justice to murders. Things have always been black and white for him.

But Conan Edogawa lives a life that is a lie and moves outside the law. Last week, he saw a young girl shoot a gun and saw how much it cost her. Last week, he held her right hand for hours until she could stand to use it again. 

Tonight, he thinks about the future. They are going up against the Black Organization, after all, and such a scenario could come again. Conan does not want Ai to have to be the one to make the hard choices, but the other options scare him.

Conan's world seems to be sliding into gray, and he fears he is sliding with it.


	3. Sword and Shield

Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

**Sword and Shield**  
August 3: Like Hamlet  
Word Count: 235

It is Ai's parents who were killed by Them when she was a baby, and it was Ai's sister who was killed by Them when she was still Shiho, but it is Kudo who wants revenge.

And maybe it's because Kudo truly did lose his life that night and maybe it's because Ai can't even /imagine/ having the ability to defeat Them the way Kudo does, but…

Ai knows not only the danger they will face trying to bring Them down, but also the danger of revenge. She has seen men and women sell their souls and lives for another's blood. Once, not so long ago, she was the devil that took their payment and meted out their purchase.

Kudo doesn't want blood, he wants justice, but Ai knows that sometimes they end up being the same thing.

Kudo does not know this. He is a detective. His part is over when the truth is uncovered. He has never had to judge or punish or deal with the consequences. But he will, if things continue as they are, and Ai does not know how it will change him.

Ai cannot see the future, but she dreams of them dying and wakes to find herself shaking. She wishes for the strength to do what is necessary and knows it will never arrive, but she hopes that when the end comes, she will be able to protect Kudo anyway.


	4. One for Sorrow

The title comes from the magpie rhyme, though obviously it applies to Ai as well.

**One for Sorrow**  
August 4: She left her life on Monday  
Word Count: 311

"What is your name?" the old man (Professor Agasa, she reminds herself) asks.

"My name is meaningless now," she says. She is no longer Shiho Miyano, eighteen years old, desperately clinging to her older sister, trying to convince herself that as long as Akemi is alright, everything will be okay (because Akemi is dead, and she must face the fact that things will never be okay). She does not want to be Sherry, tries not to think about all the crimes she has committed under that alias, all the people she has hurt and betrayed.

"Hmm, we'll have to make one up then." Suddenly, the old man, Professor Agasa, hits his fist into his other palm. "I know! We'll use mystery writers, just like Shinichi! Only we'll be cleverer, because we'll have time to think of the name, whereas he had to make his up on the spot." The professor walks away to the computer, extolling the virtues of his plan.

Ah, Shinichi Kudo, who, according to the professor, is currently masquerading as Conan Edogawa at the local elementary school. Professor Agasa said Kudo intends to bring Them to justice, which just shows that the boy is an idiot.

She plans to give him a shock as soon as possible, wake him up to the reality.

"Look!" Professor Agasa exclaims from across the room. "We can use the V.I. from Warshawski's name and turn it into 'Ai,' which can mean love or--"

"Sorrow," she says firmly. The professor cranes his neck around the monitor, looking ready to protest, when he sees her steely expression.

"Perhaps for now," he finally relents, sinking back in his seat. But she (Ai now, she supposes) knows that she will carry around the kanji for the rest of her life.

She has escaped Their cage only to find herself walled in by guilt and grief.


	5. He thinks, It’s love

FLUFF. Because Conan/Ai needs some fluff.

**He thinks, It's love  
**August 5: A boy  
Word Count: 329

**  
**Conan is twelve the first time he thinks he might like Ai more than a friend. He doesn't say anything, but he does decide to investigate the matter by observing her more closely. He is a detective after all.

By the time Conan is fifteen, he realizes that he doesn't like Ai, he loves her. He also realizes that her behavior towards him hasn't changed in the past three years, and settles himself in for a painful (and hopefully short) bout of unrequited love.

Later that month, Ai corners him on Professor Agasa's couch. "So you love me, hmm?" she asks, bending down like she always does so that they are almost nose to nose, pushing the detective novel he was reading out of the way.

"How do you know that?" Conan demands, before realizing that he should have denied it.

"I'm a scientist," she replies airily. "Observing is what I do."

"Well," Conan grouses, "make fun of me now, because--" Everything else is cut off as she kisses him.

It's a light kiss, barely there, and all Conan has time to think about is that Ai's lips are slightly chapped before she pulls away.

"I /suppose/ it's a good thing I like you too," she says in a voice that implies the opposite.

"What? How? I mean," Conan rushes to explain when Ai arches an eyebrow mockingly, "I've been watching, and your behavior towards me hasn't changed in /years/."

There is a pause, and Conan can tell Ai is blushing. He watches her for a moment before putting two and two together. Because, if she loves him and if her behavior hasn't changed in all the time he's been observing her…

"Ahh," Conan says, smiling. "Sorry it took me so long. I am a boy, you know."

"And a detective," Ai adds, as if that is the larger crime.

Conan doesn't wait for the next insult, just pulls her in for another kiss that lasts far longer.


	6. Meet the Parents

By far the worst one out of the bunch, but you have to write each prompt, so…

**Meet the Parents  
**August 6: To the lords and ladies of Byzantium  
Word Count: 344

Conan sits in a narrow airplane seat, listing to himself once again the reasons why this is all necessary. Ai sits beside him, staring out the window as the plane taxis, absently twisting the ring on her left hand.

"We have arrived at Orly, Paris, France," a female voice blares over the speakers.

Conan isn't quite sure why this is so nerve-racking. It was the easiest thing in the world to tell Professor Agasa and everyone else. But, then again, Professor Agasa and the others had always known, whereas his parents...

"Move," Ai says, not ungentle, and Conan finds himself pulling their suitcases down from the overhead compartment and following the other passengers down the tarmac. He spots his parents at the gate: his father wearing a respectable suit and his mother defying age as best she can.

"Shin-chan!" his mother squeals, bounding over to them. Conan takes Ai's hand, feels the ring she was wearing press into his palm, and relaxes.

"Mom, Dad," he greets. "I'd like you to meet Ai Haibara, my fiancée." There is a moment of silence, and then his mother is throwing herself on him in a hug.

"Shin-chan is getting married!" she cheers, and Conan rocks back to compensate for the attack. He can feel Ai trying to pull her hand away and tugs her back, a movement that catches his mother's eye. Without a word, his mother pulls Ai into the hug as well.

"I'm so pleased to see you again. It's been so long. Oh, you'll be such a pretty daughter-in-law," his mother coos, and Ai makes a bewildered face at him over his mother's shoulder. "It will be so much fun planning the wedding. Oh! And we must get your dress in Paris."

"Welcome to the family," his father says, coming over at a more sedate pace to rest a hand on Ai's shoulder. Ai makes a sound that's /probably/ suppose to be agreement, and Conan thinks she has never looked more adorable.

He wonders what he was so afraid of. This is absolutely perfect.


	7. Victory

There's really no excuse for this one either. Pure crack. You have been warned.

**Victory**  
August 7: Twiggy vs. James Bond  
Word Count: 380

Conan and Haibara argue about everything. It's a fact of life on the same level as 'Mouri is only intelligent when he's "Sleeping Kogoro".' They argue everywhere: on the train, in the classroom, at Professor Agasa's house, at _crime scenes_ (sometime _while_ Conan is trying to solve the murder; it's very distracting).

Everyone knows about it. It's become somewhat of a spectator sport, because Conan and Haibara don't simply _fight_, they debate to win.

The current score (because Conan is keeping track, and he suspects Haibara does too) is Haibara: 60, Conan: 54. Intellectually, they're an even match, but Haibara has a sneaky, underhanded trick that she sometimes uses to win.

Conan has dubbed it the nose-to-nose technique. Haibara _somehow _gets within centimeters of him without Conan even noticing…and then someone will point it out, and then Conan will get flustered, and _then_ Ai will make a final, cutting remark and walk away with the victory. It's completely unfair and about time Conan turned the tables on her.

"--and that is why humans are inherently predisposed towards baser actions," Haibara says, starting to lean forward. Conan knows that if he is going to foil her nose-to-nose technique, he has to beat her to it.

"Well, _I_ think--"

There is a moment of silence.

Conan finds himself staring into Haibara's shocked eyes at a very close distance. They aren't kissing per se, but that's mostly because neither of them is moving.

"Geh," he says, breaking away, tripping over his own feet in his haste. He doesn't bother to get back up. "I'm so sorry, Haibara. I didn't mean to ki--err, well, I didn't mean it, and it was an accident. And I'm really, really sorry."

Ai is still staring at him, frozen in shock. _She's going to kill me,_ he thinks.

"I was just, well, I wasn't trying to do _that_, and I--"

"Kissing me, Edogawa-kun," Haibara cuts in coolly, composure snapping back into place, "is _not _a valid argument on the nature of man, unless you're trying to prove that men are perverts." With remarkable aplomb, she turns and walks away, leaving Conan still stuttering apologies on the floor.

And all Conan can think--while everyone watches him with shocked expressions--is Haibara: 61, Conan: 54.


	8. Always Dangerous

Finally, an actual drabble.

**Always Dangerous  
**August 8: You shimmer like words I barely hear  
Word Count: 135

"I know you hate me, Kudo, but--"

"I don't hate you," Kudo cuts in, looking puzzled. At Ai's disbelieving look he adds, "Yeah, okay, I said that when I first met you--after you had tricked me into thinking you had killed Professor Agasa, by the way--but I haven't thought that in a long time. Not since I got to know you."

He stands there, so sincere and confused, and Ai feels breathless. She's not sure if it's because his words are tipping her world on end (how does he keep doing that to her?) or because her heart is breaking (why does he have to love someone else?). It's a feeling halfway between hope and heartache.

"He giveth and he taketh away," she murmurs and only smiles bitterly at Kudo's baffled expression.


	9. Domesticity

The reason that these drabbles aren't getting out on time is because my internet connection is acting up, and I find myself quite often unable to get online. Sorry 'bout that, but they are getting written on the day of, just not posted.

More Conan/Ai fluff.

**Domesticity  
**August 9: Anno mirabilis (Year of Wonders)  
Word Count: 309

Inspector Conan Edogawa is knee-deep in spring cleaning when he finds a box of photographs from when he was a child the second time around.

There are pictures of him, Ran, Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, Genta, Professor Asaga, Mouri, and--well, actually there are very few shots of Ai, and in most of them she's turned away or edging out the frame.

Conan sits for hours in the study, sifting through the past, and almost doesn't here it when his wife walks in.

"What are you doing?" Ai asks, dropping her purse on the end table and coming to lean over the back of the sofa.

"Looking through old photographs," he replies, handing her a few. She smiles--just slightly--as she rifles through them, her face softening in reminiscence. Conan thinks she looks beautiful.

"I was certainly standoffish then, wasn't I?" she says, seeing the same trend he did.

"No," Conan corrects, "you're standoffish now. Back then, you were try-to-make-me-do-something-and-I-_will_-kill-you." Ai laughs lightly in agreement and hands the pictures back to him.

Conan tries to remember back to her first smile, her first laugh, and can't. Ai reaches over his shoulder to pick up some more photographs, and Conan wonders if it really matters, since he still considers each time precious.

"I love you," he says suddenly, and Ai lets the photos she was picking up slide back down.

"I should hope so," she says loftily. "We're married, after all."

Conan reaches out and cups her cheek. There are so many things he wants to tell her, so many words to describe his love, but they get tangled up in his throat and all he can do is gaze up at her. Ai gives him a puzzled, searching look before finally relaxing and leaning into his palm.

"I love you too," she says, and they push the photo box aside.


	10. Hurt

This was inspired by the DC fanfic that I think is called Puppeteer. I read it on livejournal, and now I can't find it, but I would really recommend it. It was a horror story, and it was really creepy. A very good case file type fic.

**Hurt**  
August 10: Way of difference  
Word Count: 570

**  
**"I would hurt you right now," Ai says with deadly calm, "if you weren't already in a hospital bed. And I may decide to do it anyway." Her face is drawn with the effort to be unemotional, and Conan isn't sure if this is better or worse than the time she held a gun to his head. At least then he got flowers.

"It's good to see you too, Haibara," Conan says, favoring her with a weak grin.

"Dammit, Kudo," she snaps. "You could have died!"

"I had to know," Conan protests stubbornly. "He had to be stopped."

"Then you search for clues. You do /detective/ work. You don't make yourself /bait/."

"There wasn't enough time. I had to know the truth."

"And what good would the truth done if you had taken it to the grave?" Ai demands harshly. "He could have," she cuts herself off. "You know damn well what he would have done if we hadn't found you in time." She turns away, a sharp motion, and Conan knows she's trying to regain control.

"I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Conan says softly, trying to be soothing, but Ai whirls back around, scowl deepening.

"And what about you, Kudo? You were given a high dosage of gamma hydroxybutyrate. You could have gone into a coma. You could still suffer side effects. Insomnia, respiratory problems, muscle spasms. Do you even /understand/ the meaning of consequences?"

"It was worth it," he says softly, stubbornly.

Ai makes an impatient noise and turns away again. Conan knows they won't agree. They sacrifice themselves in different ways, and neither likes the other's methods. Usually they try to ignore the problem, but obviously Ai has decided that's not an option tonight. Conan feels a headache coming on through the painkillers.

"Tell me next time," Ai orders quietly, and Conan, surprised, lifts his head to hear her. He hadn't expected this. Ai turns back around and looks him in the eye. "Promise me you'll tell me about your cases: who your suspects are, what you plan to do. I'm not going to be your Watson, so don't even make the joke," she says, and Conan closes his mouth. "But I'll watch to make sure things don't get out of hand, and I'll know immediately where to send backup so that this never happens again."

Implicit is /I'll check you myself if I think you're getting reckless/ and Conan mentally chafes at the restriction (he's always worked alone before; he /doesn't/ need anyone else). But Professor Agasa told him about all the hours Ai spent running around Tokyo with the police, helping them follow the tracker signal in his glasses, and maybe he feels like he owes her something.

"Alright," Conan says, and he can tell Ai is surprised by his capitulation. "On one condition," he sees her tense and forces a smile, weak but there, "you get me a better bouquet than last times. I don't really like yellow flowers." She scowls for a moment, upset that he won't be drawn into a serious conversation (but he's so tired, physically and mentally), before letting it slide with a noisy sigh.

"Isn't it supposed to be the boy who gets the girl flowers?" she asks dryly, a sardonic peace offering.

And things aren't alright (not by a long shot), but they can pretend for a while. Maybe someday they'll manage to make it real.


	11. Gifts

**Gifts  
**August 11: I claim proud kinship with your race and blood  
Word Count: 624

Ai is the first to wake on Christmas morning. She leaves Professor Agasa to his snoring and goes downstairs to make breakfast.

"Merry Christmas, Ai-kun," Professor Agasa says cheerfully, thirty minutes later, entering the kitchen just as Ai finishes setting the table.

"Merry Christmas, Professor," she murmurs back. Breakfast goes by in a blur for her, doubt nagging at her all the while. It has been a long time since she bought anyone a Christmas present. She wonders if the professor will like her gifts.

Her worries, though, are soon assuaged, as Professor Agasa makes a big fuss over the sweater and scientific magazine subscription she gave him. "They're wonderful, Ai-kun," he exclaims, pulling the sweaters over his pajama top. "Your presents are under the tree."

Ai looks, but under the Christmas tree there are two rather large stacks of presents, one stack wrapped in gold and the other in silver. Ai scoots over to the piles, but can't find any nametags.

"Which ones, Professor?" she asks.

"Hmm? Oh, all of them," he says carelessly. Replacing his glasses, he leans forward, eager to see Ai open her gifts. Ai, though, makes no move towards them.

"All of them?" she asks, feeling horror twist her insides. She got Professor Agasa two gifts. There has to be ten or so presents beneath the tree. _I screwed up Christmas_, she thinks despairingly.

"Go on," the professor encourages, oblivious to Ai's mental anguish, "open the gold ones first."

Ai opens the presents slowly, carefully undoing the ribbon, gently pulling apart the wrapping paper so it doesn't rip. She finds board games and movies, things she can do with the other children without getting bored. The gifts are perfect.

"Thank you," she says in awe.

"Now the silver ones," he urges.

Ai opens the first one and freezes. Laying there is the purse she had admired awhile ago in her fashion magazine.

"Wha…" She can't complete the thought, and Professor Agasa only smiles.

The other silver presents contain makeup, a renewal of her fashion magazine subscription, and thick books on biology and chemistry. She hefts a book on different cell mutations in one hand and holds a small compact of foundation in the other. She can read the meaning in the gifts Professor Agasa has given her. They say/I do not see you as a child. I know who you are/. Ai wants to say thank you, but the words seem so inadequate. She says them anyway.

"I just wanted you to have something to hold on to," he explains, gently touching the top of Ai's head. The contact is surprising, but Ai lets it slide. "What's wrong?" he asks, catching on to her silence. Ai tips her head.

"I just…wish I had gotten you something better," she finally says, embarrassed. "You've given me so much, and I…"

"Don't be ridiculous," the professor gently chides without thinking. "It's natural for the parent to give more presents." The air immediately becomes heavier and Ai stiffens. "Ai-kun, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Professor Agasa quickly apologizes and starts to remove his hand.

Ai catches it in the air, halting his words. She stares at the discarded wrapping paper, thinking. The gifts catch her eye, and Ai supposes there is a second part to their message as well. /I knows who you are…and I accept you anyway/. The thought is mind-boggling. She gives a small tug to the professor's hand before letting it go. Slowly, Professor Agasa reaches back down and pats her on the head again. It is only then that Ai turns around.

"Thank you," she says sincerely, "for everything" and smiles more beautifully that she will ever know.

"It's no problem," he replies, smiling back.


	12. Speed of Light

**Speed of Light  
**August 12: Man or astroman  
Word Count: 280

Shinichi Kudo has always shone. Brighter than the flashbulbs on reporter's cameras, but just as harshly. It's in his stare, fiercely intelligent as he looks at you, through you, and then beyond, searching for the bigger picture. Megure was subjected to that stare once, the first time he met Shinichi.

It had been a difficult murder case, and Megure had called Yusaku to ask for help. The mystery writer had sent his son instead.

Megure had thought, _A murder scene is no place for children._

Two hours later, Shinichi Kudo solved his first crime. Megure had congratulated him on his achievement, but Shinichi just shook his head.

"Too slow," he had said impatiently.

Megure had wanted to say, _Detectives are always too slow. Because by the time the crime has been committed, it's already too late. Police work is reactive. All we can do is try to make sure justice is done._

But he hadn't, and now Megure wishes that he had. Because Shinichi has been missing for over a year now, and Megure is worried. He's seen how brightly Shinichi shines, knows a simple mystery wouldn't keep the boy this long.

_Too slow_.

The words come back to haunt him. Shinichi solved murders faster after that. Faster and faster till it was almost absurd, but never fast enough for him. Megure wonders if that is what Shinichi is trying to do: cross the barrier, move at the speed of light, stop crimes before they occur. It's impossible, but Shinichi has always held himself to different standards.

But the lights that burn brightest burn out the quickest. Megure only hopes Shinichi is moving fast enough to stay one step ahead.


	13. Quiet Direction

Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed. You have no idea how much they make my day.

**Quiet Direction  
**August 13: I am already king  
Word Count: 410

"--and that is how the murder was committed," Conan finishes, his junior high uniform jacket open--a concession to summer--but his eyes cool and sharp behind his glasses despite the heat.

"Don't you want to make the denouncement?" Takagi asks when he finishes writing down Conan's deduction. For a second, longing flashes in the young teen's eyes, but it is gone before Takagi can see it.

"No," Conan says, his smile bittersweet, "it's probably best if the police do it." He turns and walks over to Ai, who is standing near the convenience store's entrance, watching the suspects uneasily loiter with sharp eyes. "So," he says when he reaches her, "who do you think did it?"

"I would not presume to guess," she responds crisply, which, Conan mentally translates, means she thinks she knows, but isn't sure.

"I could give you a clue," he teases and is rewarded with a flat look. They stand silently for a moment, watching as the police gather together in preparation for unmasking the murderer.

"You'll be fourteen soon," Ai says, suddenly.

"Birthday in three weeks," he cheerfully reminds her. "What are you getting me?"

"Shinichi Kudo started publicly solving mysteries for the police when he was thirteen," Ai continues, ignoring him. "It wouldn't be outrageous for you do so as well."

There's that pang of longing again, sharp and bitter, tempting him.

"Thank you," he says sincerely, "but that would be impossible." Ai knows that, of course. He's seen the way she looks in science class or when Professor Agasa drags them to a convention. It is the same look he gets at crime scenes.

But they are no longer Shiho Miyano and Shinichi Kudo. Ai Haibara has learned a little about kindness, and Conan Edogawa has learned a little about caution. He knows he cannot afford to be a copy of his former self.

Conan watches as Takagi starts outlining how the murder occurred and is aware of Ai observing him.

"We're going to be late meeting the others," Ai says conversationally, and Conan knows she is trying to give him a way out.

"As soon as the police are done," he says, and Ai lapses into silence with a nod of her head. They watch as the police single out the killer, and they listen to the criminal's shouts of indignation, and then they turn, walk out of the crime scene into the summer afternoon, and go find their friends.


	14. Deal with the Devil

**Deal with the Devil  
**August 14: All night long I've held your hand  
Word Count: 264

This has to end.

Akemi knows this, just as she knows she has been selfish up to now. She knows that her normal childhood was bought at the price of her sister's, knows that while she is attending college courses and chatting with friends in coffee shops, Shiho is slaving away in some dark lab.

Akemi isn't brilliant like Shiho, but she can see what the strain is doing to her little sister. Every time they meet, Shiho is a little paler, a little more withdrawn. Akemi can tell that the work is getting to her, that Shiho is folding in on herself a little more each day.

This has to end. And Akemi will be the one to end it.

Akemi doesn't trust Them. That's why she hides her mother's tapes and rents a second apartment under a fake name. She reserves two plane tickets to Mexico under aliases, a promise to herself that someday they will escape the men who dress all in black like crows.

Her phone rings. 8:45 on the dot, just like They said.

"Akemi speaking," she says.

"We have one more job for you," a voice, low and malicious, taunts. "A simple bank robbery and then you and your sister are free to go."

Akemi clutches the phone receiver tighter as her stomach twists in apprehension. She can do this. This is for Shiho. She can do this. This is for Shiho. The mantra repeats over and over in her mind, stiffening her resolve.

"Tell me the details," she orders.

This has to end. One way or another.


	15. The Art of Stargazing

**The Art of Stargazing  
**August 15: Air and stars  
Word Count: 69

Ai knows that stars blaze so fiercely they burn themselves out and the light you see may be from a star already gone.

Conan knows that the stars, billions of light years away, are currently unreachable, but that doesn't mean they always will be, and that's why they should be studied before their light disappears.

The air between them is heavy with the things they know but don't say.


	16. Just Words

The symptoms early on (before the degeneration part) are really what happened to dogs tested for anaphylactic shock, which is what an apotoxin is supposed to cause.

**Just Words  
**August 16: Kingdom of the mad  
Word Count: 361

Following the successful conclusion of clinical trials for the apotoxin Project 48 Experiment 68, also known as APTX-4868, (for clinical trial results see report 25 for mice, 38 for canines, and 65 for monkeys) experimentation on human subjects was authorized.

The first test was September 16, 1998 at 10:15 am. Subject was male, 38 years old, Caucasian, with no medical history of serious health problems.

As requested, below is a summery of the trial:

10:15 Subject was given APTX-4868 by injection.

10:18 Tests showed the nervous system had been completely depressed. Subject had no strength to vomit and was defecating blood.

10:20 Ataxia set in. Without the restraints, the subject would have fallen. Pupils were dilated, and the subject did not respond to any outside stimuli.

10:21 Subject fell unconscious. Breathing was labored, and the heart beat was so faint it was barely perceptible. Blood pressure barely reached the one or two centimeter mercury level.

10:23 Subject's body started degenerating. As with trial 65, degeneration started at the nervous system before spreading to the circulatory and respiratory systems.

10:27 Decomposition of the muscular system began. Skin became stretched as the body lost its shape. Bloating was especially prominent in the thighs and chest.

10:30 Subject registered as brain dead.

Post-mortem examination showed traces of the apotoxin still in the cellular remains of the destroyed systems. As with the previous clinical trials, the skeletal system remained intact.

It is my professional opinion that these continuous defects render the poison unsuitable for field use, as the bones could potentially be used to trace the corpse's identity. A more suitable antigen needs to be found to better utilize the toxogenin's unique properties of degeneration. With your permission, I would like to modify the apotoxin to correct these flaws. This course of action would require returning the earliest levels of clinical trials, and the beginning of a new experimental version, Project 48 Experiment 69 or APTX-4869. It is my opinion that if such steps were to be taken, it would be possible to achieve the original expectations of the apotoxin project, and I urge you to consider this course of action.

Sherry

Head of Research


	17. Stronger Than You Think

Thank you again to those of you who have reviewed. I want to specially thank Yume Takato and SN 1987A for continually encouraging me.

Title is based off of Ai's line to Conan in one of the latest chapters when she tells him, "She's stronger than you think." Because Shinichi has problems too and he doesn't always get it right.

**Stronger Than You Think  
**August 17: I am inside someone who hates me  
Word Count: 615

"We never talk anymore," Ran says, and Shinichi, standing on tiptoes in a phone booth three blocks away, is taken by surprise.

"What do mean?" he asks. "I called you two weeks ago."

"Shinichi," she says, dragging his name out, but the boy detective has no response. "You call me. You don't talk to me," Ran corrects.

"What are you talking about? Of course I talk to you. Who else could I possibly be conversing with?"

"I meant we never talk about anything important. It's 'Hello, how are you? I'm fine. I won't be home soon, but I can't tell you why. Goodbye.' We never talk about anything important."

"Ah," Shinichi says. "This is a girl thing, isn't it?"

"No," Ran snaps, and Shinichi is taken aback by her tone. "This is a /best friend/ thing. We've been friends since we could walk, Shinichi, and now you won't tell me why you've been missing for over two years!"

"I told you, I can't. It's for the best."

"Shinichi," she begs. "Why won't you confide in me? Why can't I help you?"

_Because you can't_, he thinks. Aloud, he sighs. "Ran, I have to go."

"Goodbye, Shinichi," Ran says sadly, yielding the argument.

Shinichi hangs up, reties the red bowtie around his neck, and walks back to the Mouri Detective Agency. He finds Ran sitting at the kitchen table, furiously attacking her math homework.

"Conan-kun," she greets, when he comes in. "How was Professor Agasa's?"

"Fun," he answers. "Ran-nee-chan, are you okay?"

Ran blinks. "Of course I am," she says with obvious false cheer before going back to her homework, but Shinichi will not be dissuaded.

"Did Shinichi-nii-san call?" Shinichi asks, trying to look innocent. Ran's pencil stops.

"Yes," she says slowly, "he did." She sets her pencil down. "Conan-kun," she begins earnestly, "when you grow up, always count on your friends, okay? That's what your friends are there for."

"But what if it's something your friends can't handle? Something only you can do?" Shinichi challenges, attempting to look clueless.

"I suppose," Ran says thoughtfully, "there are personal or familial problems that you might not want anyone to know about. But you should _always_ feel like you can go to your friends, even if all they can do is listen to your problems and sympathize. After all, to be good friends with someone, you have to trust them." Ran's voice is melancholy as she adds, "Or, at least that's what I thought." There is a frown on her lips, and her eyes look ready to cry.

Shinichi would say, _Be patient, Ran. Wait just a little bit more. I'll be home soon_.

Conan would say, _If Shinichi-nii-san makes you so sad, Ran-nee-chan, you should stop waiting for him. _

Shinichi thinks he must be going insane or developing bipolar disorder or something, because there are times when he absolutely hates himself. Shinichi Kudo, genius detective and savior of the Japanese police force, knows he can't, he won't tell Ran the truth. It's too dangerous. It will help nothing. But the part of him that thinks as Conan Edogawa, Ran Mouri's little brother, simply hates to see Ran cry and would do anything to prevent it.

The truth is Shinichi is no longer sure what the truth is. He's no longer sure _who_ he is or even who he wants to be. He doesn't want to make Ran cry, but it seems he's too selfish to let her move on.

He thinks, _We've been stuck at this impasse for two years._

He thinks, _Something has to give soon._

Aloud, he says, "I'm going to bed, Ran-nee-san."

She smiles gently and says, "Goodnight."

The lies will hold for now.


	18. Springtime of Youth

Thank you again to YumeTakato, SN 1987A, Fredryck, and KristiexxNguyen. I know what a pain it is to review, and I thank you for taking the time to do so.

**Springtime of Youth  
**August 18: Spring letters and spring tears  
Word Count: 659

Conan takes love letters with an unusual lack of grace. He blames it on Ai, who snickers every time and asks, quietly, "So, thinking of becoming a pedophile?" It is only fair that he does the same to her whenever she receives a love confession.

Conan is no stranger to love letters. He received hordes of them when he was Shinichi Kudo and his photograph was plastered across the front page almost once a week. Conan, though lacking his former self's fame, receives his fair share as well. A fact Conan is just a tad bit smug about, even if he'll never agree to one.

"Um, I'm sorry, err, Yuki-san, but I can't accept your letter," Conan says, thrusting the folded stationary back at the short-haired girl. Yuki gives him a doe-eyed look before bursting into tears and fleeing down the hallway.

"Great going, Casanova," Ai dryly remarks behind him, and Conan scowls at her before stomping off to soccer practice.

--------

Practice ends just as the sky is beginning to dye red. Conan slings his soccer bag over his shoulder and sets off towards Professor Agasa's house. He's about five blocks away when he finds himself surrounded by a gang of high school boys.

"Hello," he greets cordially, mentally calculating the odds. There are seven of them, and he has one shot in the stun-gun watch and a soccer ball.

"Hello," a boy with shoulder length hair returns mockingly. Conan subtly shifts his soccer bag so that the zipper is within reach.

"Do I know you?" Conan asks politely. They have him surrounded. He'll have to take out at least three of them to escape.

"Heh, no," the boy spits at Conan's feet, but the teenage detective doesn't react. "But I heard you made little Yuki-chan cry, and that--" here the older boy cracks his knuckles menacingly "--I just can't stand for."

_You have to be joking_, Conan thinks, unimpressed by the dramatics.

--------

"What happened to you?" Ai asks when Conan pulls himself into the living room. He doesn't answer, just trudges over to the couch and collapses.

"Fight," he mutters into the pillow.

"Oh?" Conan doesn't even need to glance up to know that Ai's arching an eyebrow and giving him that 'what have you been up to now?' look. "Trading in your title of detective for delinquent, are you?"

"No." Conan lifts his head up just enough to glare at her. "It turns out sweet little Yuki-san's older brother is a rather infamous bully at Shirokin High School. They cornered me after soccer practice."

"Let me get this straight," Ai says, amused, "you've taken down one of the largest criminal syndicates in the world and a bunch of high school delinquents got the best of you?"

"There were _seven_ of them," Conan complains. "And I got them all in the end. And _then_ I had to drag them all to the nearest police box, so you could be a little more sympathetic."

Cool fingers touch the skin around his right eye. "You're going to have a rather impressive black eye," Ai merely says before moving away. Conan groans and flops back down. He should have known better than to expect Ai to be helpful.

"Turn over," he hears Ai order and does, only to find something _freezing_ on his face. "Don't pick it up," Ai chides, pulling his hand away. "The ice pack has to be on your face to reduce the swelling."

"Thanks," Conan mumbles before being struck by inspiration. Ai in a generous mood is a rare occurrence. It would be a shame not to take advantage of it. "Hey, I'm kind of thirsty," he says, trying to sound as pitiful as possible. "Fighting those bullies after soccer practice took a lot of energy, you know."

"Don't push your luck," Ai snaps. "You're injured, not infirmed."

But a few minutes later there is a can of juice sitting by his head.


	19. For Lack of Romance

For Fredryck, although this is most likely not what you had intended. I blame it all on the prompt! (And too many chick flicks.) I really just wanted to title this drabble 'Crack' but figured it was going to be bad enough without starting off on the wrong foot.

**For Lack of Romance  
**August 19: At most, flowers  
Word Count: 772

Their love is not a whirlwind romance. They are too old for that. They've known each other too long for that. They fell in love slowly and didn't realize it until one day they just turned around it was there. Well, that last one is a lie. _She_ fell in love, fast and hard, but knew it was impossible so she tried to laugh it off. Ai was shocked when one day she realized that Conan might actually like her back.

It didn't take her very long to convince him to get rid of the 'might.'

Still, Conan has to be the most inhibited boy Ai's ever met. He blushes bright red whenever she jokes about anything even slightly scandalous and it's taken her this long to get through to him that it's not only French people who use their tongue when they kiss. Honestly.

So, for their one month anniversary, Ai isn't expecting much. Dinner and flowers and then back to her doorstep for a chaste goodbye kiss. The night seems to be supporting her predictions. Conan shows up at her doorstop, a little early, a little nervous. In his left hand is a bouquet of roses and baby's breath which he fumblingly gives her. He takes her to dinner at one of those rooftop restaurants that offer a fantastic view of the city. The food is good and they amiably chat their way through the main course and dessert.

After dinner, though, Conan takes her hand and tugs her towards the nearby park. Streetlamps line the paved sidewalk that winds its way through the grass. The trees are black smudges in the dark. They stop under one of the streetlamps, and Conan snakes one arm around her waist and the other around her neck. They stare at each other for a moment until Ai realizes that Conan isn't staring at her, but her right ear. She turns her head slightly to find Conan's watch face.

"What?" she asks.

"Shhh," Conan answers distractedly. "Just ten more seconds."

"What-" she repeats but doesn't get further than that because Conan is pulling her in for a kiss.

He deepens the kiss, and Ai gives a small hum in the back of her mind because _finally_ he's--

Something explodes overhead with a bang.

Ai reflexively tries to jerk back, but Conan holds her in place as he ends the kiss. Ai looks up in time for the next explosion and then she realizes that they're fireworks. She gives Conan a questioning look and all she gets in return is a smug grin.

"Haven't you been wanting to see fireworks when we kiss?" he asks.

Ai stares at him a moment and then breaks down in silent laughter. She leans forward so that she is laughing into his shoulder and simply shakes with mirth.

"Ai?" Conan questions, but Ai can't stop laughing long enough to answer him. The absurdity of the situation is too much. Finally, after a good five minutes have passed and the last firework has exploded, she is able to catch her breath.

"I am never letting you watch romance movies _ever again_," she informs him, trying to catch her breath. "Or letting you go to Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta for romantic tips. I assume they're the ones behind those well-timed explosions?" Conan gives a sheepish nod. "I can't believe you did that," Ai marvels, "It was…so corny." And that just sets her off again, so she rests her forehead against the slightly scratchy material of his suit and waits for the hilarity to pass.

"I was trying to be romantic and grand," he huffily tells her when she's through, looking both baffled and bemused by turns. He's never seen her laugh like this. "You, however, have _completely_ spoiled the mood of this date."

"Sorry," she lies breezily, still unable to get over it.

"I bet," Conan mutters. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

Ai shakes her head emphatically and bites her lip to stop the bubble of laughter welling up inside her. _Well_, she thinks, _at least_ _after this, nothing Conan could _possibly_ do will surprise me._

"I suppose," Conan says to the world in general, giving a sigh of patient martyrdom, "it is up to me to salvage the situation."

He kisses her gently on the lips and then the corner of her mouth before moving on to the line of her jaw. She turns her head and smiles into his hair, and Conan makes his way down her neck to the juncture of her collarbone.

_Oh_, she thinks.

It seems Conan can still surprise her after all.**  
**


	20. In The End

**In The End  
**August 20: Alhambra  
Word Count: 425

The palace of the Nasrid dynasty is beautiful, all elegant arches and curves. Shiho stares into the courtyard's shallow pool while two men in black suits talk to the curator in Spanish off to the side.

These past few years, Shiho has been relentlessly shuttled around the globe. She's sat in on biomedical research lectures in the United States. She's deciphered ancient alchemical texts in Italy. She's visited China to learn centuries' old healing techniques, Mexico to read myths on Mayan temple walls, and even Japan to investigate some small island with a legend about the properties of mermaid flesh.

Her life has become wrapped up in the search for immortality, and it is for this purpose, on the organization's behest, that she has come to Alhambra, following yet another unlikely lead in hopes that the Muslim empire left behind clues on how to reverse the stream of time.

Shiho notes that the conversation between the men in black and the curator is winding down and idly wonders if she jumped into the pool she would be able to break her neck.

Her life, Shiho thinks sometimes, has become _wonderfully_ ironic--because while she searches for immortality, she wishes simply for death. Everywhere she goes, she finds herself imagining different ways to commit suicide. She won't actually do it, of course, because then Akemi's life would be in jeopardy, but it's a kind of release in itself, to imagine herself stepping out in front of a bus in Singapore or falling through that British museum's stain glass windows.

"Come on," one of the men says, and Shiho tears her gaze away from the pool and follows them inside. The weather is hot this time of year, but Shiho doesn't pay it any mind, just sits down, carefully opens a dusty tome, and starts translating.

It will be a pointless endeavor, Shiho knows, just as the organization's entire obsession will, in the end, be fruitless.

Look around, sometimes she wants to say. Everyone wants to be immortal. That's why they built palaces and temples and pyramids out of stone. That's why they carved their names and deeds in the walls. That's why everyone is so obsessed with fame. Everyone wants to be remembered. Everyone wants to outlive themselves. In the end, though, the elements tear down what we've built and we forget the names carved in stone. We die, and everyone else moves on. It is inevitable.

Shiho believes in inevitability. That's why she quietly reads the archaic writing and imagines herself hanging from the ceiling.


	21. Dreamer, Dancer

Well, I didn't get them done by August 31st. Moving and going back to school pretty much ruined that plan. I will get them all done though as soon as possible.

**Dreamer, Dancer  
**August 21: Who would take us to be women?  
Word Count: 755

She is a child. The mirror confirms this fact for Ai everyday.

Even if she was able to forget how she has to stretch on tiptoes to reach the countertop, even if she was able to ignore how her feet swing in the air whenever she sits down, her reflection would be a constant reminder of her new reality.

It was slightly disturbing at first, to look in the mirror and know she wasn't seeing her real self. She felt trapped in her own skin, sickened by her own face.

But time has passed, and Ai has learned to accept this new life, this body that is hers and not hers at the same time. Still, she had been so focused on being a child that she had nearly forgotten children grow up.

"What do you mean, you want me to help you put on makeup?" Ai asks, completely surprised by Ayumi's request.

Ayumi looks slightly embarrassed and unsure, but there is no mistaking the determination in her eyes. "Please," she repeats. "You have those grown-up fashion magazines. You must know how to put on makeup."

"Ayumi-chan," Ai says, hoping to appease the other girl by using her given name, "why do you want to wear makeup? We're only ten years old."

"Well, it's such a fancy party," Ayumi hedges.

And Suzuki's twentieth birthday bash _is_ impressive, from the luxury yacht on Tokyo Bay to everyone being dressed to the nines, but Ai doesn't buy it. She stares skeptically at Ayumi until the other girl caves.

"I just, I just thought maybe if I looked older, more mature…" she trails off, but Ai already knows what she was going to say.

_Oh, Ayumi-chan_, she thinks sadly. She wonders what Ayumi would do if she knew that she had no chance with Kudo, that he was ten years older than her and already hopelessly in love. She'd probably ask him out anyway. Ayumi was brave like that, always willing to take a chance, risk everything for her emotions.

"Alright," Ai capitulates, and holds out her hand for Ayumi's purse.

Ayumi only has basic, cheap makeup--her older sister's, the young girl explains--but Ai does the best she can, and it's worth it for the look of dazzling happiness that lights up Ayumi's face afterwards when she looks in the mirror.

"Let's go," Ayumi says excitedly, and the two girls exit the bathroom and rejoin the party. They spot the rest of the Detective Boys by the buffet, balancing plates of precariously high piles of food.

"You should ask him to dance," Ai suggests before they get within hearing range, mindful of the second layer of lipstick Ayumi is wearing.

"Really?" Ayumi asks, blushing.

"Really," Ai assures her, knowing Kudo won't turn her down.

"Okay," Ayumi says before marshalling her courage and walking over. Ai watches, lips curling up in a small smile when Ayumi soon leads Kudo to the dance floor.

There is a waltz playing, but Ayumi doesn't adhere to its strict steps, despites Kudo's best attempts to properly lead her. She dances with enthusiasm though, and Ai smiles gently while watching them before remembering she has one last task to attend to.

She slips through the crowd until she finds the professional photographer, a lanky man in a cheap suit standing on the sidelines, snapping pictures of the dancing couples.

"Excuse me," she says politely, and has to repeat it two more times before she gets the man's attention. "There is a picture I would like you to take," she says crisply. The man opens his mouth to tell her that he doesn't do requests, but his protests die under Ai's gaze. Few people could withstand her glacial calm.

"Alright," he yields and obediently follows her back across the dance floor.

The waltz is winding down as they reach Ayumi and Kudo. The photographer snaps a few photos before looking at Ai for permission to leave.

"Be sure to take one as the waltz ends," she instructs and the man lifts his camera back up to wait.

The waltz concludes, and, as the last strings are fading away, Ayumi pulls Kudo in and kisses him on the cheek, just as Ai had predicted. There is a flash of light above her, but Ai is busy smiling at Ayumi's suddenly shyness, Kudo's surprised expression, and the conspicuous lipstick kiss on his left cheek.

"Thank you," she tells the photographer, and makes a mental note to get a copy of the photograph for Ayumi later.


	22. Viennese Waltz

This is the sequel to Dreamer, Dancer.

**Viennese Waltz  
**August 22: This red, red moon  
Word Count: 492

Conan finds Ai on the ship's deck, staring out at the moon. "Yo," he greets. "Had enough of Suzuki's party?"

Ai turns, opens her mouth to say something, and pauses when she gets a good look at his face. "Oh ho," she says with what Conan considers to be a bit of unholy glee, "what have you been up to?"

"It's not my fault," Conan protests immediately. "Ayumi said it was tradition," he points to the imprint on his left cheek of a rather smudged lipstick kiss mark, "and then Ran decided to kiss the other one so they would match." The kiss mark on his right cheek is rather better defined.

"It's unfortunate that both your cheeks have already been claimed," Ai says disappointedly.

"What? You--err--umm," Conan stutters, taken by surprise.

"I suppose it's alright, though," Ai continues nonchalantly. "After all, you have other cheeks." Conan gapes at her before blushing beet red, doubling over to choke on air. "Just kidding," she intones in that same lazy voice. "Honestly, Conan, don't hyperventilate."

"But--you," Conan stammers.

Ai looks at him for a moment, just looks at him with a strange expression he can't read, before settling back into that annoying smirk. She reaches forward slowly and Conan stands still, unsure of what is happening. He jumps slightly as she sweeps her fingers over the skin on his neck till her palm is resting against his nape, and Conan is still trying to figure out what her hand in his hair means when Ai leans in and kisses him on the lips.

Conan stares at her with wide eyes, but Ai's eyes are closed, and without a thought, his eyelids slowly droop. It's a chaste kiss, neither of them moving, but it lasts for an eternity--

--or maybe that's just him. All Conan knows is that when Ai pulls back, he feels a strange sense of disappointment.

"There," she says in a self-satisfied voice. "Now you have three girls' lipstick on you, you playboy."

Conan scowls, off balance from the kiss and Ai's flippant attitude. "I'm sure," he parries, "if you asked Mitsuhiko, he would be willing to kiss both your cheeks."

Ai pretends to give this consideration. "Hmm, I might just do--" But the idea of Mitsuhiko kissing Ai is suddenly very unappealing, and Conan cuts her off, leaning in to kiss her again.

Kissing Ai, Conan discovers, leaves a strange, fluttering feeling in his stomach, and like any good detective, he decides to investigate. He doesn't pause for breath, just draws her closer and kisses her right cheek, her mouth, her left cheek, and then her mouth again.

When they finally break apart, Ai's eyes are shining even as that damn smirk remains in place.

"Well," she breathes. "I'm feeling much more refreshed. Shall we go back to the party?"

"I think the party can wait a little longer," Conan says assuredly and kisses her again.


	23. Where All Loves End

The prompt and title comes from Ash Wednesday by T.S. Eliot. This drabble doesn't really go with all the others, but Eliot always does strange things to my mind.

**Where All Loves End  
**August 23: Rose of memory, rose of forgetfulness  
Word Count: 164

He stood at the window that night, with moonlight in his hair, with his eyes looking far away to distances unseen and asked,

Is this right?

And she had no answer, because she had given up on right a long time ago. Had lost hope with fair. Had forgotten justice.

She didn't respond and they stood in silence, him in moonlight, her in shadow. Till the door opened and they came in, saying,

It's time.

And it was. And when it was over and the blood had turned black (or had it always been black?), she thought,

All this for immortality.

But that was untrue because she hadn't done it for immortality, but for a computer and the files on the computer and the pill the files told her how to make and the boy who took the pill from her hand and said,

Thanks.

And then the boy was gone and she stood at the window alone and knew it was right.


	24. Eye of the Beholder

I wanted to do secret operative!Sherry, because it's obvious from the restaurant case that she has had some training by Gin, but this kind of got away from me.

**Eye of the Beholder  
**August 24. I am waylaid by Beauty  
Word Count: 1,846

She is a scientist.

Shiho holds the words close to her heart, a talisman against reality. They are a definition, a restriction. They place her within in the boundaries of a lab, the confines of scientific experimentation.

They are utterly untrue.

Shiho is not a scientist, she is a member of the Organization, and They demand far more of her than lab reports and batches of poison. They demand loyalty, and for loyalty to be recognized, it must be tested.

For the Organization, there is only one test.

Shiho steps out of the black Jaguar into Amsterdam's red light district. It's three am, but the neon signs cast a bright, harsh glow and strains of techno pop leek out of the clubs to mingle into an indistinguishable beat.

Shiho pays the scene no mind, just strides down the sidewalk to Pierre, one of the trendier nightclubs, where her target has been holding court the past few weeks and where Gin assures her Chegodai Ozherel'ev will be tonight.

She would never be able to get into a club like this in America, but the bouncers here don't even blink at her youth, just wave her in with the rest of the crowd.

The club is dim and loud and crowded, and Shiho absolutely hates it. Nothing shows on her face, though, except bored disinterest. It would be impossible to find Ozherel'ev on her own, so she makes her way over to the bar, paying no mind to the gyrating couples and drunken youths she squeezes past on the way.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.

"A sherry," Shiho orders calmly, and the bartender goes to fill her order.

It's a different bartender, though, who brings Shiho her drink. Shiho sees him eyeing her short black dress and black heels, and knows he's the organization's operative.

"A bit of a heavy drink for a young girl like you," he says casually.

"I've earned it," she replies, and the man nods slightly, recognizing the code.

"Let me bring you a coaster," he says, and when he slides it under her drink, there is a line of code written on the bottom: F2 R6 G7 O12. Shiho translates the note dispassionately: the target is on the second floor in room six with seven bodyguards and twelve other guests.

It wouldn't be impossible to take them all out, but Shiho prefers to limit the casualties as much as she can.

She wonders for a moment, feeling cold, how far gone she is to think like that: 'prefer to limit the causalities'. But then the moment ends, and Shiho forces the thought away, forces herself to go numb.

She drains the shot and catches the operative's eye. "I'll need another," she says.

"You'll have to wait," the bartender replies. "I'm preparing a round for the private rooms. Should be about ten minutes."

Shiho inclines her head in thanks before sliding off her stool and making her way across the dance floor. The strobe lights flash on and off overhead, turning the dancers into frantic shadows. She cuts a path through the bodies, trying not to touch anyone.

The dance floor goes all the way to the wall, so Shiho hides in the stairwell, blending in with the darkness. In ten minutes exactly, the operative arrives, a tray of drinks on one arm.

"Complimentary," he explains, grinning sharply. "Ozherel'ev's is the vodka. One of the blondes is the cosmopolitan, and the other is the margarita. The rest will tell you their order. Serve the blondes last. Make 'em jealous."

Shiho gives him a cool look. "I know what I'm doing," she informs him. The barkeeper backs up a step, smile vanishing.

"Of course," he says hastily. "Didn't mean to imply--"

"It's fine," she interrupts and tips her head because members who have been given code names do not thank mere operatives.

She makes her way up the narrow, dark stairs, noting everything in case she has to make a quick escape. It's unlikely, but Shiho likes to be prepared.

She thinks of chemical reactions and hydrogen compounds and kinetics. She goes through the periodic table like some people count (hydrogen, helium, lithium…). She tries to think of anything except the fact that she is about to kill someone.

She knocks on room six's door and is bid to enter. When she opens the door, the mental struggle is gone. Shiho is utterly calm, a slightly inviting smile on her lips. She gives Ozherel'ev his vodka and then calls out the other guests' drinks, leaving the cosmopolitan and margarita for last. The blondes scowl at her, but Shiho pays them no mind. She feels Ozherel'ev's gaze on her.

The reason Shiho was given this target is because the file said he likes young blondes. Shiho is the youngest blonde in the room.

"I haven't seen you before, miss," Ozherel'ev says, and Shiho can see the lust in his eyes.

"I just started," she replies demurely, meeting his gaze.

Young and blonde in a short skirt and high heels. It's irresistible bait. Shiho thinks, _like a moth to the flame_. Except, scientifically, moths aren't really attracted to the flame. They're actually attracted to the shadow cast behind it.

Which, really, is even more appropriate.

Ozherel'ev swallows his vodka in one gulp. "Miss," he slurs, "I think I'd like another."

"Of course," Shiho says, and turns to leave.

"Wait." The drunken man lurches to his feet. "I, I will come with you."

"As you wish," she murmurs, feeling the jaws of the trap beginning to close around both of them.

Ozherel'ev follows her out of the room, as do three of his bodyguards. Shiho notes them in the corner of her eye, trying to gauge from their position and stance which is the worst threat. She turns to go back down the stairs, but Ozherel'ev puts an arm around her shoulder.

"No need to go all the way back down," he whispers in her ear with breath that smells like liquor. "I have a bar stocked in my private room."

Shiho had memorized the blueprints of Pierre long before the mission. Ozherel'ev usually entertained guests in a public second floor party room, but he also had a private room reserved on the third floor for "special encounters." Shiho had planned to kill him there from the start.

"Alright," she acquiesces and allows herself to be directed up to the third floor.

When they get to the room, Shiho goes to the bar immediately to give herself the time to see how the bodyguards will arrange themselves. They're fairly relaxed (why should they suspect this slip of a girl is capable of anything dangerous?), but they're still well trained and spread out through the room. Shiho does the math in her head, figures she can take out two of them before they can draw their weapons, but the third…

"You don't need to worry about that," Ozherel'ev says in what Shiho assumes is suppose to be a seductive tone. He starts to make his way over to her, but Shiho puts down the alcohol and goes to him in order to be as close to the bodyguards as possible when the fight begins.

Ozherel'ev runs his fingers over her cheek. "You're beautiful," he breathes.

Shiho smiles mirthlessly and jams four fingers into a nerve in his lower chest and another four into his throat. Ozherel'ev's shoulders jerk as his body paralyzes, but before the bodyguards can realize what has happened, Shiho twirls around and kicks the nearest guard in the face, his head snapping back at an unnatural angle.

She lands and races towards the second guard, who is pulling a gun out of his jacket. She reaches him first, slamming her palm into his throat and then punching him in the side of his ribcage, where the bone is the weakest and snaps into the lung.

The first shot grazes Shiho's cheek as she turns around, impacting the guard's chest right where her head had been moments before. Shiho finds the third bodyguard with his gun already drawn, pointing at her.

"I won't miss again," he promises, not fazed about hitting the other bodyguard. Shiho silently looks at him for a moment before exploding into action.

The bodyguard shoots again, but Shiho drops, sliding across the remaining stretch to kick the man's legs out from under him. He tumbles backwards, and Shiho kicks the gun out of his hand where it skids across the floor to rest under a chair. The bodyguard grabs her leg, twisting it around and pulling it across him in a move that normally would have dislocated it. But Shiho bends with it, using the momentum to slam her elbow into his solar plexus.

The man lets her go, but Shiho finds herself in an awkward position, one leg thrown over his body with the other still crouched under her. She twists her upper body, jamming her hand into his throat, crushing his windpipe. The man chokes--desperate for air he can no longer reach--and Shiho takes his head in her hands and twists it sideways.

And, just like that, all the frantic action comes to a halt. Shiho stays still for a moment, listening to her breath even out, the sound absurdly loud to her ears. She stands up calmly, brushes off her skirt, and turns towards Ozherel'ev.

"What, what do you want?" he wheezes, eyes wide in panic.

"Nothing," she says. Shiho reaches into her dress and pulls out a handkerchief. She goes over to the chair and fishes out the gun.

"Wait," Ozherel'ev pleads, still unable to move. "I'm, I'm sure we could work something out."

Shiho looks at him for a moment, dispassionate and silent, and then pulls the trigger. There is a silencer on the gun, but Shiho thinks she can hear the bang anyway. She watches as Ozherel'ev's body convulses on the bullet's impact before slumping over. She does not drop the gun until she is sure his heart has stopped beating.

She wipes the blood off her cheek, folds the handkerchief up neatly, and puts it back in her dress. It would not do to leave clues behind after all.

Shiho descends the stairs silently, pausing in the shadows at the second floor to make sure the hallway is empty before crossing it and making her way back down to the dance floor.

The music seems strange to her, distant, like she's hearing it from underwater. Shiho makes her way across the room, feeling even more apart from the crowd than before. She does not glance at the bartender on her way out.

The night air is thick with cigarette smoke and offers no relief. Shiho walks for a block until a black Jaguar pulls up. She opens the passenger door and gets in.

"Success?" Gin asks.

Shiho thinks of the man's head in her hands, the texture of his hair and skin. She thinks of four sets of eyes staring up at her, blind but accusing.

"Done," she says.


	25. Late, But Not Forgotten

**Late, But Not Forgotten  
**August 25: The heart beats on and will not stop  
Word Count: 447

There are people like Ran and Ayumi who shine so brightly it is impossible not to notice them. They wear their hearts on their sleeves and their kindness in their eyes. They're easy to read, easy to deduce from a detective's standpoint, not because they are shallow, but because their goodness is so strong it influences everything they do.

On the other hand, there are people like Ai.

Conan isn't sure how to classify Ai, thinks maybe the miniature scientist is in a category all her own. After all, she blindsides him in a way no one else can. The moment Conan thinks he has her figured out, she'll do something completely unexpected--something so brave and stupid and contrary--that he finds himself having to completely reconstruct his image of her.

It was so easy to say "I hate you" at Professor Agasa's house that first evening. She was one of Them: cold and callus and tricky, not even human really, and Conan knew that they would never, ever get along.

And then she broke down in tears, clinging to his shirt.

Conan admits he hasn't been sure about her since.

Every time he has found a trait to pigeonhole her with, she has surprised him. Conan isn't sure when she went from being the untrustworthy scientist whose only purpose was to cure him to Ai, friend and confidant, but he's glad of the change. It's a novel experience, having someone he can always talk to, someone who will stop him when he gets in too deep and watch his back when it gets dangerous, someone who will pass him amusing notes in class when the teacher is really boring, someone with whom he can argue with about everything under the sun and know he's met his match.

"You've changed a lot," he had remarked at their elementary school graduation, only to receive one of those wry looks.

"So have you," she had responded, amused, and Conan hadn't known if she was joking or not (because Conan /never/ knows if she is joking or not), but he had realized that it was true.

Because the person he is now would never have just stood there while Ai cried her heart out.

"Conan," Ai calls from the kitchen. "Do you want to have--geh." Ai's question is cut off as Conan pulls her into a one-arm hug from behind. It's only for a second, and then he lets her go. "What was that for?" Ai demands with a face that says she's ready to verbally spar.

"Just something I should have done a long time ago," Conan explains ambiguously before walking away.

Ai can't be the only unpredictable one.


	26. Between Us

**Between Us**   
August 26: Souls are like armed battalions   
Word Count: 699

Ai is sulking, forehead resting against the passenger seat's window, and all Conan can think is that while he wanted to see Ai again, it was not really under these circumstances.

He isn't sure if it's because she's drunk or because he has kind of, sort of kidnapped her.

"I would have been fine," Ai says sullenly when the car stops at a red light, and Conan sneaks glances at her out of the corner of his eye, like he's been doing this whole excruciating drive. "I'm twenty-two," she continues, "Hah! Thirty-two, mentally. You have no right to have pulled me out of that bar."

Conan's thankful that at least Ai is a mellow drunk, because if she was sober, she wouldn't have shut up--and that's only if she hadn't decked him in the parking lot first. Or, at least, the Ai he knows would have done that. It's been three years since they've seen each other, after all.

"I didn't like how that one guy was looking at you," Conan says and steps on the acceleration with a bit more force than necessary when the light turns green.

"You didn't--" Ai begins incredulously. "I'll have you know Kenji is my…" she trails off into silence.

"Your what?" Conan asks, not liking the sinking feeling in his stomach but unable to stop it.

But Ai doesn't answer, just presses her cheek against the glass and looks out the window. "Oh well," she says instead. "I guess it's time I got home anyway. Early day at the lab tomorrow." Ai peers unfocusedly out the window, noticing for the first time that this isn't the way to her apartment. "Where are we going?" she asks.

Conan winces, hoping to have put off that conversation until they arrived. "I don't know where your apartment is," he explains, hoping that will be enough to placate a drunken Ai.

"So where are we going then?" she persists, because it's just Conan's luck that even when she's completely plastered, Ai's still incredibly stubborn.

"My apartment," Conan tells her. Ai raises her head to give him a long, disconcerting look before slumping back against the window again with a derogatory snort. "What?" Conan asks.

"That's Conan Edogawa," Ai mutters to the world in general, "the saintly detective. Always doing right by someone--even when the person in question doesn't want his charity."

"Hey," Conan exclaims, offended.

"Oh, Detective," she pitches her voice like one of those old noir dames. "Savior of the Japanese police force. Destroyer of the Black Organization. No mystery can foil you for long."

"Just one," Conan mutters.

"How many cases have you solved today? How many lost children and puppies have you rescued, Oh Purveyor of the One Truth?"

"The only rescuing I've done lately," Conan cuts in, "is saving my best friend from getting an even worse hangover." Ai snorts again, and Conan thinks he's finally getting it. "Is that what this is all about? I don't see you as a child or a small animal, Ai, or anything else you have to take care of. You're one of the most brilliant people I've met." Conan can count the number of people as intelligent as him on one hand, and Ai leads the list.

"Could have fooled me," Ai murmurs, louder than she intended.

"Is that why you left?" Conan asks.

"I didn't leave _anywhere_, Conan," Ai says tiredly. "I live in Tokyo. I visit Professor Agasa three times a week. I have lunch with Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta all the time."

"Is that why you left me," Conan clarifies. The silence in the car is stifling.

Conan grips the steering wheel tighter and focuses on the road. The silence between them has been there for a long time, filling up with misunderstandings for lack of anything else. Conan wonders if he can call himself a detective, if it took him this long to see that.

He glances over at Ai to find her eyelids drooping and bites his lip. This can wait, he thinks. The silence has been there for years, another night won't matter. In the morning, they will talk.

He won't let her slip away again.


	27. Something like Faith

**Something like Faith**  
August 27: Wait for me whenever darkness falls  
Word Count: 500

They have her. Oh God, they've captured her.

Ai doesn't bother to struggle against her bindings, just closes her eyes behind the blindfold and settles herself down to wait until the car stops.

They have her, and Ai knows what they do to traitors. She's seen it. After all, some of them wound up in her lab as the latest test subjects.

There is no mercy for betrayers. No respite.

They throw her in an empty, concrete room and take off the blindfold and rope. After all, what's the point in being in Hell if you can't see it? If you can deny that this room will be your grave?

Ai wonders what punishment they'll see as fit. Perhaps she will be a test subject for an experimental poison. Perhaps it will be her own poison. Ai knows she will not survive a second dose of apotoxin.

Perhaps they'll shoot her, over and over in non-vital areas until she bleeds out onto the floor. Or maybe they'll torture her, try to make her sell out the names and locations of everyone who has helped her.

Whatever method they choose, Ai knows it will be excruciatingly painful and drawn-out. There is no such thing as a quick death for traitors.

Ai looks around, even though she knows it is futile. There are no large air vents to save her this time. The room is solid concrete, the walls slightly browned by old blood. The air smells like death, stale and rank.

Perhaps she will merely suffocate, face turning blue as her lungs grasp for oxygen that is not there, body systems shutting down one by one.

Ai knows her thoughts are morbid, but it doesn't matter. There is no hope. Her bag is gone and her pockets have been emptied. All she has left is her watch--her watch which has one shot of sedative left.

Ai twists her watch around her wrist, thinking. The sedative is mild, but a shot directly to the heart would definitely be lethal for a child. Slowly, so as not to attract undue attention from the hidden cameras that are most likely watching her, Ai raises her watch until it is level with her heart. Ai has an intimate knowledge of the human anatomy. She will not miss.

_I'll protect you_.

Useless words. Ai knew that at the time, but she believed them anyway. Now, she has proof how foolish that promise was.

_I'll protect you_.

It's stupid to hope now. Ai has already cheated this fate once. She knows They will not be denied a second time.

_I'll protect you_.

She has never flinched from death before, and even if she _had_ decided not to run away anymore, it is pointless to court suffering. This is the end.

_I'll protect you_.

The door opens slowly with a creak, and Ai ponderously forces her arm to lower. As the men drag her to her feet, she mentally prepares herself to endure as long as possible.


	28. The Hero

Sorry for the long wait. Thankfully, there are only three more to go! This is the sequal to Something Like Faith.

**The Hero  
**August 28: Gilgamesh  
Word Count: 602

This isn't how it's supposed to be, part of his mind screams. But the majority of Conan's mind is frozen in shock and utterly silent. The hand around the gun trembles.

I had to do it, he thinks. I had to, I had to, I had to. If I hadn't…I had to, but why is everyone staring at me like this?

"Edogawa-kun," Haibara says gently, like she's talking to a child. And maybe she is, because Conan can't _think_ at the moment, can't get past the blood--oh, all that blood. "Edogawa-kun," she repeats, and Conan wants her to tell him that it will be all right, but Haibara has never believed in those kinds of lies.

"I--" he chokes out.

"I know," she says simply, soothingly. She reaches out and wraps a hand around his fist, around the gun.

And there should be blood on his hand, because there is plenty of blood everywhere else, but his hand is clean--no, not clean; never clean again.

And it's strange, he thinks, that's Haibara's hand should be clean as well, because there is blood bleeding through her shirt and sliding down her cheek, and her face is drawn with exhaustion. Conan thinks of what Akai told him before this all began--"She will be injured," the older man had said, "tortured, most likely, and in no condition to help us. It will be your job to help her escape"--and knows the FBI agent was wrong, because Haibara's grip on his wrist is the only thing firm and stable in this world that seems to be tilting and sliding away, the only thing stopping him from shaking and shattering into a million pieces.

"You're hurt," Haibara says quietly as she takes the gun from him. "You need medical attention." She tugs and Conan follows, but he thinks that it's useless. The pain has left the gunshot wound on his arm and infested some place deep inside of him, leaving him feeling adrift and crippled.

Conan thinks that it should be him supporting Haibara, who is swaying and staggering with each step despite her steady grip, but Conan can't find the will to move forward on his own. Something's missing, and he thinks maybe he left a part of him behind in that room, in that blood. He briefly considers going back to find it, but Haibara pulls him inexorably forward and away.

Conan's not sure how they make it out, doesn't even really notice the transition between dim hallways and dying sunlight until he finds himself sitting on the back fender of the FBI's truck while a medic wraps a bandage around his shoulder. Ai hovers over him the whole time, ignoring the medics that swarm around her, eyes dark with fear. Conan wonders, absently, why it never occurred to him before that that worry might be _for_ him.

"Can you give him a sedative?" she asks, and Conan tries to protest, but Ai just shushes him. "Even heroes need to rest," she chides, gently pushing him down onto a thin mattress.

The term just makes everything hurt more, makes Conan feel like something is breaking inside of him. Because he knows, now, that he's not a hero, knows that all this time he's just been playing one. "'M not a hero," he mutters, and Haibara stares at him with eyes that are heartbreakingly sad.

"I know," she says softly. "But I wish you didn't."

And that makes no sense to Conan, but before he can ask what she means, something sharp pricks his neck, and Conan feels his eyes flutter close.


	29. Amongst the Dying Leaves

**Amongst the Dying Leaves  
**August 29: Hatred is holy  
Word Count: 1,179

"Where is she?"

Shinichi looked up from his book to find Shuichi Akai standing next to his park bench. Sunlight slanted through the red and brown leaves above, throwing harsh shadows on FBI agent's face.

"Who?" he asked, though the whole blinding innocence act had worked much better when he had looked like a child.

"Sherry," Akai ordered, unimpressed.

"How would I know?" Shinichi questioned back.

"Last night, we went to retrieve Sherry from Professor Agasa's residence, only to find that she had somehow slipped past our lookout and taken a train to Okinawa."

Shinichi's mouth tightened as he fought down his anger. "You had no right to do that," he told Akai.

"We had every right. She's a criminal."

"She--" Shinichi caught himself. "Well, that's a surprise," he said breezily instead. "I had no idea. It's too bad she escaped. With the FBI going back to America in a few days, I don't know how you'll find her in time to bring her to justice." Shinichi tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but there was just the slightest lilt when he said 'justice' that gave it a sardonic edge.

"How unfortunate," Shuichi concurred dryly.

"Did you follow her to Okinawa?" Shinichi inquired.

"We sent an agent," Akai said, "but her trail had already disappeared."

"What do you plan to do now?" he asked.

Shuichi smirked. "Curious? Or are you just ready to rush off and go tell Sherry where to hide next?"

"That sounded awfully like an accusation," Shinichi observed softly.

"And if it is?"

"We worked together to bring down the Black Organization," Kudo reminded him.

"So why are you working against us now?" Shuichi challenged.

"How do you know I am? Do you have proof?" He had been so meticulous setting Ai's escape up. The FBI shouldn't have any positive proof of his involvement.

Shuichi smirked. "As a matter of fact, I do." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He opened the box up and shook out one cigarette and a tiny black circle smaller than a fingernail.

Akai held up the listening device. "We found this in our headquarters. Look familiar?" He dropped it onto the open page in Shinichi's book. Shinichi stared at it for a moment before tipping the book and letting the electronic bug slide to the ground. He had actually planted that bug months ago, but there was no sense in telling Shuichi that. He looked up and gave Akai a charming smile.

"I don't suppose you'll believe 'no,' will you?"

"Impeding a criminal arrest is a crime, Kudo," Akai threatened. Shinichi sighed and closed it book. It was time to get to the point, it seemed. He stood up and stared Shuichi in the eye.

"It is," Shinichi agreed levelly, "a crime to impede a criminal investigation by any law enforcement force that has jurisdiction in the area." He gave Shuichi a serious look. "But the FBI does not have any legal authority in Japan. That's why no one knows that the Black Organization has been taken down, and they won't until all the members are safely locked away in American prisons on American soil, right?"

"This isn't a personal choice, Kudo," Akai said. "The American government wants all members of the syndicate rounded up and put on trial. No exceptions. She's listed in their database--"

"As dead," Shinichi interrupted. "The Black Organization's own records list her as executed, so I don't know why you're bothering to chase after a dead person. It's not like we ever saw Sherry in any of our fights with the Black Organization, did we?"

Shuichi frowned. "It isn't that simple," he protested. "This isn't some word game you can win by being clever. Sherry is a real criminal. You have no idea what she's done, who she's--"

Shinichi held up a hand--a hand that belonged to an eighteen year old, not a child.

"If I didn't believe in second chances," he said softly, "I wouldn't be here right now."

"A wonderful sentiment, I'm sure, but if you knew what she's done, you wouldn't be protecting her. It would be better if you let the FBI--"

"No," Shinichi said. He gave Akai a curious look. "You saved her once in Nagoya when you didn't have to. I know you don't hate her, so why are you being so persistent?"

"I hate Sherry," Shuichi disagreed flatly. He took a drag of his cigarette and tried to stare Shinichi down. Shinichi merely gazed back until Shuichi snorted and flicked his cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath his shoe. "Well," he began and froze. Shinichi turned around and felt horror clench his stomach.

Only a few feet away stood Ai Haibara, eighteen years old and unmistakable, the dusky autumn leaves falling around her like morbid confetti.

"Idiot," Shinichi swore and started to take a step forward, but Shuichi was already there.

"You know the FBI plans to arrest you," he murmured. "You know what coming back meant."

Ai raised her chin and stared him in the eye. "I came back," she said, "because I won't spend my life hiding from you. I'm done hiding."

"Then you'll accept your punishment?" Shuichi asked, stepping closer. Ai shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "My place is here. I came to tell you that."

Shuichi raised a hand towards her cheek, but Ai didn't acknowledge the motion one way or the other. They stood in frozen tableau for a moment, and then Shuichi dropped his hand. He turned his back on Shiho and walked towards Shinichi.

"It seems you were right," he murmured when they were level. "Neither Sherry nor the girl I knew would have come here. They must be dead."

_Now who's playing with words_, Shinichi thought, but he said, "You knew Shiho Miyano?" When Shuichi didn't reply, he added, "I'm sorry."

Shuichi shrugged. "Some things are better off lost, it seems."

"And some things are worth fighting to keep," Shinichi added.

Shuichi looked at him for a long moment before nodding and moving past. "The FBI will be leaving in three days," he called back over his shoulder.

Shinichi and Ai watched him go until he disappeared round a bend in the park's path. Shinichi looked down at the electronic bug lying forlornly on the ground and then smashed it beneath his heel. The FBI might have fooled with its wiring, and besides, he didn't have any use for it anymore.

"We should leave town just in case until they leave," Shinichi said in the silence.

Ai nodded. "I just wanted to see him one more time before this all ended." Her wistful expression turned chagrined. "Err, I already checked out of the hot springs resort. I wasn't sure I would be able to go back, so…"

Shinichi laughed, startling them both. "You're always ruining my plans," he lamented.

"They're never very good ideas anyway," Ai retorted easily.

"It's all right," Shinichi continued, magnanimously ignoring her. "We'll just take the long way home."


	30. Heart of All Gifts

Wow, only…two years late. Sorry, my interest in DC waxes and wanes in direct proportion to how much page time Ai is getting. At least there's only one more to go!

**Notes: **I have always been interested in the fantastical elements of Detective Conan, which seem incongruous in a scientific, detective manga but yet are crucial to the story. I wanted to write at least one of the stories focusing on that. Pandora means "all gifts" in Greek, just FYI.

**Heart of All Gifts**  
August 30: I am known to night and horses and the desert  
Word Count: 1,564

She did not realize what it meant to be a Miyano until this moment.

Pandora's Gem is crying in her hands, the precious sap-like fluid slicking her palms before falling to the ground. Ai does not notice. All is unheeded under the moonlight except the tableau before her.

Kaitou KID had been here—he is the one who handed her the jewel, after all—but he fled to draw off the men in black. She can still hear the occasional gunshot or siren, but for the most part, everything is still. She shudders at the thought.

She steps out of the tree's shadow into the moonlight tinted grass, eyes locked on the small dark shape that lays twisted and abandoned there. Each step is slow and costs her, but after what seems like an eternity, she is there.

She says, "You should not have come," and cannot stop her voice from hitching as she falls to her knees. "You should not have come," she whispers again and brokenly asks, "_Why_?"

"To protect you," Conan manages with a grimaced smile. He should be screaming in agony, but his neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, and Ai knows he is completely paralyzed.

_Small blessings_, she thinks and presses her lips together so that she doesn't scream.

And the worst part—if there can truly be one worst part—is the song running through her mind, beautiful and haunting. Pandora's Gem is singing to her the secrets of time and space, and, oh, it would be so easy to fix this, to turn everything back.

"Man should not reverse the stream of time," she reminds herself. She remembers Akemi telling her this when she was a child, the solemn look on her older sister's face as she explained to Shiho that their father's last wish had been for Akemi to pass on the cryptic warning to her younger sister.

Ai didn't understand it at the time, but she does now. The Miyano are the only ones who can hear Pandora's song, and so they have been burdened with the responsibility of never listening to it.

"I can't," she tells Conan as her hands clench around the slippery stone while Pandora croons about loss and hope and redemption. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Conan almost smiles again before his eyes flutter close, and this is all _wrong_. In her mind, Edogawa is always in motion: running after criminals and clues alike, dashing across the park in pursuit of a soccer ball, jumping down the stairs because he's impatient with his short legs. Conan never laughing, deducing, _moving_ again is…

_But I can't_, she wails. There was always a price for reversing the stream of time. The syndicate originally getting their hands on Pandora's Gem is what precipitated this whole tragedy.

There is a sob, and before Ai can realize that it is her own, she is hunched forward, crying helplessly over Conan's prone body. _No_, she thinks_, no, no, no._

The cool gem in her hands turns warm. Ai ignores it at first, but the heat seeps into her hands and up her arms, sliding through her until she takes a deep, shuddering breath and opens her eyes to find that the red sap has turned brilliant white and molten. Pandora's song is louder now, and Ai can no longer tune it out.

_When Zeus learned that Prometheus had stolen fire from the gods, he was furious_, a female voice whispers. _To punish mankind for their trespass, he filled a box with hate and fear and sorrow. He then created Pandora, an innocent young woman, and gave her the box to use as her wedding dowry along with the warning to never open it._

"I know," Ai murmurs. When she was a child, the Organization had forced her to read the fable over and over in hopes that it would provide a clue for the gem's hiding place. She knows the story by heart now: a foolish, naive woman, unable to handle her own curiosity, acts rashly and in doing so, dooms the entire human race.

It's laughable, really, how she could apply the story to so many people in her life. Her parents obviously weren't able to resist the lure of forbidden knowledge that the Syndicate tempted them with, leading to her being raised by Them after their death. Her upbringing made her callous to the implications of her work, sparking her to delve into the possibilities of the apotoxin project without a thought for the consequences, which in turn led to their false second life.

_And what am I supposed to do now?_ she thinks. _You were always such an _idiot_, rushing into things and playing the hero, all because you _had_ to know the truth. And not only that, you had to expose the truth to everyone and save the day._

It's hard to breathe. Ai takes gasping gulps, but there is no air. All that exists is Conan's twisted body, his head dangling to the side, mouth open against the dark grass, his back arched in a caricature of a stretch as the pallor of his face bleaches to white under the moonlight. She keeps waiting for this to just be one of her nightmares, but there is no waking up from this.

_I told you_, she thinks and presses her lips together, _I told you this wasn't a fairy tale. Heroes lose, and_ what am I supposed to do now?

_Pandora's story is not a parable warning against curiosity_, the voice cuts in, stern and soothing. Ai does not want to be soothed. She tries to gather the words to order—beg—it to stop, but they slip through her grasp and are lost._ Zeus shaped Pandora's fate so that she would have no choice but to open the box. The punishment may have succeeded, but it was not the triumph that Zeus had expected._

"I don't understand," Ai murmurs aloud, staring down at Conan's still form.

_The other gods put a gift into the box as well: an emotion that could only be understood when felt alongside despair or terror--the one emotion that could allow humans to face that which Zeus had hoped would cripple them._

Ai realizes what the stone is getting at, but she does not dare believe.

_Hope_, Pandora says gently, _which would be useless without an understanding of the darker side of emotion, a feeling which would be impossible to appreciate without experiencing its absence. There is a cost to using Pandora's Gem, but not all costs are hard to bear, if you know what is truly important._

The warmth wraps around her heart and her mind, and Ai _knows_.

To use Pandora's Gem, one must be willing to hope. And, in turn, to risk having their hopes crushed.

She thinks of Conan smiling at her, cheek scraped from the pavement and arm broken from landing under her, but no one would have guessed the injuries from his poise, an air of absolute confidence that seemed unthinkable given that they had just narrowly escaped an exploding bus. _You don't have to run away anymore_, he told her then, _I'll protect you_.

She hadn't believed him, of course. She knew that no matter how hard one tried, it was impossible to protect another person from danger, not in the long run. Still, over time, she had found her own reasons to stop running away.

Pandora's Gem exults in her mind, and Ai's hands clench around the stone, unsure.

_Man should not reverse the stream of time_. Her sister's old warning comes back to haunt her. The Miyano do not use Pandora's Gem. She should not even be thinking of doing this.

Ai tries to envision going back to Professor Agasa's house, Pandora's Gem in hand and Conan's corpse in tow, and finds she cannot imagine that kind of finality. She has only survived so far, Ai knows, because of him. He has kept her safe, and even more importantly, he has kept her sane. Without Conan, long, solitary years of ungracious pretending stretch before her, bleak and unpalatable.

Ai takes a deep breath and the chilled night air makes her dizzy. She leans forward and braces one hand on Conan's forearm, the skin under her palm still warm with false life. Ai knows it will take a while for the blood to cool and the skin to turn rubbery. She has handled plenty of corpses before, after all, though the thought of Conan joining their ranks makes something pull tight beneath her ribs.

That's what she calls him now, Ai realizes: Conan, not Kudo. She thinks that it has been a long time since she last answered to the name Shiho Miyano. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she became Ai Haibara. But does she dare?

_You don't have to run away anymore, _Conan says, _I'll--_

"I don't know if this will work," she tells him. _And I have no idea what the consequences will be if it does, _she thinks as she presses the jewel to his chest. She counts the seconds with her pulse, but nothing happens.

She does not ask why. In her mind, she can feel Pandora, faintly expectant, telling her with its silence that this is not enough. Ai sucks in a deep breath, closes her eyes, and takes that leap of faith.


End file.
